“You can.”
She was shaking her head because his touch, there, in such a forbidden place, rendered her momentarily speechless.
“Tell me what you want and you can have it.”
What she wanted, what she thought she wanted didn’t seem half as important as this moment, this feeling. It was beyond intimacy, more than she’d ever thought could be a part of her. She knew him, had known him for a long time, and yet tonight his touch felt new, exciting, enticing.
She wanted to do what he said, to tell him what she wanted, to take what she needed. The urge to take had never been so strong before. And yet there was something else. Not too far in the distance was something that she feared, a being, a place—what was it that held her back?
Again she didn’t speak.
But it didn’t stop him. One hand slipped over her hip to brush past her clean-shaven mound. Thick fingers parted plumped dewy folds, touching the tender and tightened clit. She moaned, her head falling back to rest along his shoulders.
“You want me to touch you here? To fuck you this way,” he continued in a voice that simply lulled her into a pleasurable abyss.
Kalina didn’t know the answers. There was his other hand, behind her, pressing one finger slowly against the tight back entrance. Another finger moved through her wetness, finding her center then pressing inside. Sensations rippled through her and she sighed, moaned, welcomed.
Against her bottom was also the heated pressure of his arousal. Thick and hot it felt against her, and her nipples tingled with awareness.
She wanted him, desperately.
“Yes, that’s what I want,” she heard herself whisper.
Sharp teeth nipped at her shoulder, traced a pleasure–pain path along the nape of her neck, and ended at the other shoulder.
“Tell me,” he urged. “Tell me what you want.”
“I…” She could barely think of the words, much less speak them. “I want you to … fuck me … like … this.” They tumbled free, her mouth watering at the thought.
The hand that toyed with her anus retreated, as did the one drowning in her wetness, but he didn’t leave her. Oh no. When she was just about to panic that he was gone again, she felt his palm at the base of her back, pressing her forward. Kalina gasped as her hands gripped the windowsill, the warm breeze still blowing over their naked bodies, the stillness of the night still her only view.
Strong hands parted her cheeks, and she whimpered at the feel of his heavy erection pressing closer. When the thick head of his dick brushed over her center, she bit her bottom lip. He pressed forward, slowly, and she wanted to scream. It wasn’t going to fit. She couldn’t see it, but she could feel and her heart hammered at the discovery. Tears of disappointment stung her eyes.
“It’s for you, baby. Don’t worry, it’s all for you.”
It was too much for her, that’s what she thought. It, him, this moment—it was overwhelming and yet inevitable.
She was worried but she didn’t speak, just let the breeze soothe her as he slipped more of himself inside her. The stretching should have been brutally painful, but instead it was pleasingly tight, pushing her to acceptance of what was more than just physical. She was opening, taking him in, taking in everything that was around her. The sultry breeze, the scent of rain and fresh air, the nothingness that seemed euphoric: It was all rippling around her even as his dick sank in to the hilt.
He began to move, slow, steady thrusts that milked her essence until it trickled down her inner thighs. Pumping her bottom back against his ministrations was as natural as breathing. Feeling his hands holding her hips, guiding the depth of his thrusts anchored her somehow, kept her from soaring into the unknown.
“I told you it was for you.” He moaned behind her, his pace increasing. “All for you.”
Sweat poured from her body as his thrusts came quicker, went deeper. She was crying out now—his name, she thought, but she wasn’t entirely sure. The sound of her voice was untamed and wild to her own ears.
“Yes! Fuck! Come for me, baby. Come so hard you can’t stand any more. Come, damn you!”
His voice was a guttural growl, one she matched with a keening howl of her own as her release rushed through her like a raging waterfall.
It was a demand, not a request. Her thighs quivered in response to the sound of his voice—so familiar, so in tune with her. This felt like déjà vu, like this man had loved her this way before. Her entire body trembled at the thought. Maybe it was all for her. Maybe …
“Kalina! Kalina!” he repeated as he pumped into her fiercely, his thighs slapping against her moistened cheeks. His fingers dug deep into her skin, keeping her still while he pounded into her. Her release made her even slicker and his dick moved through that slickness like a professional violinist playing the symphony of its life. When he roared she should have been afraid, yet she was satisfied in a way she’d never thought existed. Every feminine part of her opened, bloomed like a flower at the sound of his pleasure, and as he emptied his seed into her she knew, without any doubt, she knew.
“You are for me, Kalina. Only for me,” he said, his voice rough against her ear as he bent forward over her, his erection still lodged inside her. “Only for me.”
Only for me. Only for me.
It’s for you, baby. All for you.
You are for me.
The words echoed in her head, dancing about as if begging her to memorize them, to make them mean something for all time. And as she awoke they stayed in her mind, playing and replaying.
Rome woke with sweat pouring from his body, his heart thumping wildly in his chest.
Pushing the covers from around his legs, he got out of bed and walked across the floor of his bedroom, trying valiantly to catch his breath. At the balcony doors he pushed the latch, and the glass accesses swung open. A cool night breeze flushed his damp skin. He inhaled deeply.
The scent filled his mind, seeped into his lungs, creating an acrid taste in the back of his mouth. Blood. Lust. Death.
Leaning forward, he planted both palms on the railing and stood naked on his balcony, closing his eyes to the memory of the dream.
It had begun with her, Kalina. The feel of her rounded backside beneath his palms still had his dick hard. She’d been so wet, so sweet, so open for him. They’d connected, linked, as if they’d always been meant to follow this path. Then he’d heard something in the distance. A scream or a cry. And the scent assailed him.
Blood. Lots of blood. And pain, so much pain he’d wanted to roar with the stinging feeling himself. He’d run, as fast as he could, shifted into jaguar form and run through the streets, searching for them, needing to find them, to stop this from happening. Again.
And he’d failed.
Again.
His chest heaved; he couldn’t seem to inhale enough oxygen. He’d wanted to stop the pain his parents endured, wanted to prevent anyone from ever being murdered in such a vicious and senseless way again. The guilt hung on his shoulders like chains and his knees weakened.
They were still out there. The ones who’d killed his parents and possibly others that were after Kalina. They were killing for no reason but that they could. And Rome despised them, wanted to snap their necks and devour the carcasses the same way they did their victims. He wanted to hate as deeply as they did, to not give a damn about consequences or lives affected after the act.
But he couldn’t.
His fingers gripped the railing until his knuckles felt as if they’d rip the flesh from his hands. His claws extended, pressing into the other side of his palms. Inside, a growl emanated as his cat threatened to surface.